


Laying Claim

by Aleatory



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Marking, Mild Blood, Possessive Gabriel, Protective Gabriel, Season/Series 03, Trickster Gabriel, damsel in distress Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleatory/pseuds/Aleatory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Mystery Spot, late season three. Based on a prompt for BAMF!Gabriel!<br/>Sam didn't expect the trickster to be the one to pull him out of a nest of vamps. He also didn't expect it to make him weak in the knees. That part's new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Splitting up never seemed to go well for Sam, but this time? This time he was in deep. He and his brother had been investigating a small nest of vamps in butt-fuck-middle-of-nowhere Iowa, and he’d gone to track down the terrified victim, who’d run off into the sleepy town streets while Dean tracked the stupid young vampire straight back to his nest. Simple.

At least, simple until he’d reached the victim and discovered that she wasn't a victim. She was a full vampire who’d led him away from his brother and straight into a trap- four more vampires stepping out of the alleyways to corner him. Considering they thought the nest was only three or four vamps to begin with, Sam was more than a little surprised, and didn't have time to react when three grabbed him and the fourth hit him from behind. Everything went dark from there, and he woke up in the trunk of a car, bruised and disoriented. 

It’s a huge nest. Like, at least five times more vamps than what he and Dean had estimated- and that’s just what Sam can see from where they've got him tied to a chair, draining blood from a cut in his arm with a crude IV system. He’s not sure if it’s the blood loss or the recent unconsciousness that’s making him so disorientated, but he’s struggling to keep up with what the creatures around him are saying.

His blood is impure. He can’t be turned the way an ordinary human could be, but he’s apparently going to be fucking delicious, and for that reason they’re draining him dry now. Wonderful. His best hope, at this point, is that Dean managed to get the young vamp to bring him here, but that’s not a high hope. There are a lot of monsters here, and he's not going to be any good for a while with the lack of blood in his system. Sam raises his head groggily. “Hello?” he calls softly, hoping to let Dean know where he was, in case Dean was already in the warehouse.

"You keep quiet, half-breed." One of the vampires, apparently a bit higher ranking, snarls, revealing his fangs.

"Oh, let him cry." An older vamp stands up from where she’d been leaning against a pillar. "After all," she laughs cruelly, "He doesn't have much time left, and there’s no one who could possibly hear him."

"Is that so?" Sam  _knows_ that voice, but as blood-starved as he is, he’s having trouble placing it. Clearly the vamps haven’t heard it before though, as they all jerked their heads towards the door behind Sam. And then, then there’s a simple -snap-, and one of the vampires, the one who had slit Sam’s arm, is dripping and then pouring blood from both arms, then from the crown of his head, The others watch, panicky and confused, as his terrified screams fade out and he drops to the ground.

 _The trickster._ Sam doesn't know how or why, but that is definitely the trickster from Mystery Spot standing in that doorway. He cranes his head around for a glimpse, and is endlessly glad he did, Maybe it was just blood loss causing the faint glow that seemed to radiate from the man in the doorway, but it was glorious _._ The trickster isn't leaning casually there as Sam thought he’d be, either. His feet are planted, hands curled into fists, all out powerful.

"Because I sure as hell can hear him." He snaps again, and Sam can feel the blood sluggishly stop draining from his arm. "And I’m here to put an end to this." 

It all unfolds faster than Sam’s eyes can keep up- he’s got a blade, silver and sharp enough to cleave the vamps’ heads clean off, and he moves fast enough to destroy the ones who try to run. He goes after the ones near Sam next, taking off heads, or making them bleed out with a single touch, just as the first one had. One launches himself directly at him, and the trickster stops him with a palm to the forehead, freezes him right there in front of Sam, and then he smirks a little as he snaps, watches the vampire outright burn from the heart outward. 

He could easily destroy all of them with a single snap, but this isn't a game to him, not this time. He’s destroying these creatures in anger, and Sam can’t tear his eyes away. He hadn't known the trickster was a warrior, but he fights beautifully, brutally, and effortlessly. The trickster snaps again, and watches the last few around the edges of the room collapse in blood, so only their leader remains, and then once more, causing the bodies and heads to disappear entirely .

Without even surveying his work, he walks straight up to their now petrified leader, grabs her throat, and holds her against the pillar. And then,  _dear sweet heaven above,_ he tilts his head a little in Sam’s direction and hisses  **“ _Mine.”_**

Okay that, that should not get Sam hot and bothered. He’s not one used to playing damsel-in-distress, but apparently it just makes him weak in his little human knees. It could also definitely be the blood loss. But god, is he _ever_ okay with this possessive display of violence.

The trickster drops her, and tucks his blade back into his coat. “If you  _ever_  touch human blood again, it will burn you from the inside out, get it? Now get outta here. And tell whoever you find that Sam Winchester? Not your dessert platter.” She’s nodding, scrambling up, running, but all Sam can think about is how suddenly he’s more than willing to be this guy’s dessert  _anything._ There had been previous recognition that yeah, the trickster is pretty fucking gorgeous, but acknowledging that and wanting to be carried away into the sunset are completely different things.

 _“_ Sam. Sammy, Sammy, Sam.” The trickster is standing over him now, smiling softly. Sam could swear those brown eyes glow golden. ”I give you back your brother and you just go and lose him.” There’s a gentle touch to his forehead, and his bruises fade away, his binds release, and there’s also an abundance of blood back in his system. A good portion of it is heading south.

Sam stands up, attempting to downplay this whole victim thing he’s got going on. “Thank you, I… if there’s anything I could do in return…”  _He sounds like a god-awful porn intro what is he doing._

The trickster smirks a little. “I’ll tell you what. Do me a favor and keep yourself alive. I want you to enjoy that time with your brother.”

Sam blinks. “I though you said I needed to let… go?”

"You’re a lost cause on that one, kid. But you, ah, may have made me think about what it means to appreciate what you have while you have it." There’s regret in his voice, but Sam knows better than to ask. Perhaps some other time. "You want a ride back?"

"How?"

He grins. “Hold on, Sammoose.”

They teleport back to outside the motel, and the trickster lets him go, tells him his brother will be back soon, and reminds him that perhaps its best just to tell Dean he’d taken out the nest alone.

"I, uh… thank you. So much. For everything." It’s suddenly like the end of an awkward first date, and Sam runs a hand through his hair, remembering that word.  _Mine. You aren't allowed to touch Sam because Sam belongs to me._

Impulsively, Sam leans down and kisses him, kisses the trickster,and marvels at how human he feels, how human he tastes- this creature that’s more powerful than anything he’s ever met kisses like a human being, all soft and warm and gentle. He jerks back before he can think about it too much.

"I’m sorry, that was really over the line, I shouldn’t ha-" he rushes out, but the man in front of him just smirks a little as he raises his hand.

"It’s more than fine, Sam. Take care of yourself. I can’t fix all your messes." And then he snaps and he’s gone and Sam’s alone in a parking lot with a cleaner bill of health than when he started, a nest of dead- no,  _missing-_ vamps to explain, and a fucking  _hard-on._ Damn trickster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little add on. For funsies. written ~six months after the first chapter.

Dean was long gone. There's absolutely no one to pull his ass out of the fire when a werewolf pins him and starts tearing into his skin, shredding his shirt as he struggles, adrenaline and pain driving him, flinging all four limbs upwards in desperate hope of hitting something important. He doesn't. The wolf manages to get him pinned and turns back to his chest with sharp teeth and strong jaws.

He hasn't seen any other hunters around in a week or so, and that was states ago. He hasn't seen anyone he knows since Dean died, well over a month ago, when he and Bobby went their separate ways and Ruby smoked out of her vessel. He's going to be the victim some other hunter looks down at, wrinkling his nose, and mutters, "werewolf, poor kid." Sam's still screaming, though. It's reflex.

The werewolf's jaws are closed around a good hunk of his muscle, but rather than pull back, the creature abruptly releases, as though his whole jaw has gone slack, and for a split second, Sam swears he sees confusion in the inhuman eyes. Then the man collapses, sprawling on Sam's chest, mouth still bloody, but relaxed and open. Sam doesn't wait around to see if it wakes up or to figure out why. He shoves the limp body to the side and hauls himself to his feet, one hand coming up to his chest to try to stop the blood rushing out of his body and down his chest. Before he can take a single step, though, a figure steps from the shadows, eyes locked on him. The trickster's back.

You got a little something," the trickster states, and touches one finger to Sam's torn up chest. Sam whimpers at the pressure, but doesn't try to move away. As fucked up as it is, he trusts the trickster. Sure enough, his torn skin start knitting up, his muscles stop their relentless throbbing, and even the gashes on his shoulder heal in fast forward, leaving faint, painless red lines. Even his heart seems to have benefited from the touch, slowing down the wild erratic thumping to something a little more sane.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks, still a little breathless.

"Saving your ass, what does it look like?"

"What did you do, exactly?" Sam counters, toeing at the limp werewolf.

"Cured him." The trickster is still in Sam's personal space but he doesn't want to move away. There's a smell of something sweet, something sharp, something beyond earth surrounding him. "He's a good man. He'll wake up tomorrow confused and bloody, but human. I'm a sucker for happy endings."

It's not the first time their trickster has saved him. It started with that nest of vamps a few months ago, and happened three or four more times. Each time, he'd offer Sam his hand, and teleport him back to the parking lot of whatever motel he was staying it, telling him simply to take care of himself and leaving him there, vaguely disappointed and aroused. When the trickster brushes his fingers against Sam's, the hunter takes the offered hand willingly. He is surprised, however, when they end up in a living room, dim and cozy and nothing like the motel. 

"Where are we?"

"My place."

Sam lets out a long breath. "Dean's gone."

"I know."

"So why are you still saving me?" The facade of saving Sam for the sake of the brotherly bond is crumbling away, and here they are at wherever the trickster calls home. Sam can only hope.

"Because you're mine." The trickster's eyes are steely, possessive, and Sam snaps.

"Fucking  _take_ me then," he hisses. _  
_

Just as the words escape his lips, the trickster lunges at him, and he falls backwards, expecting to hit the floor but impossibly, magically, landing on the couch, with the trickster sprawled on top of him, mouth pressed to his. It's nothing like their first kiss, none of the softness is there this time. Maybe it's Sam who's changed, maybe he's a harsher, braver, bitterer man now, but it's exactly what he's been craving. The trickster doesn't linger long at his lips, instead moving down to mouth at Sam's neck. Sam tilts his head back and groans, which only spurs the trickster forward.

Sam's shirt is already torn apart, and the trickster finishes the job, pulling away the tattered flannel to get at Sam's chest. He leans down and bites at Sam's collarbone, just hard enough to leave light indents and redden Sam's skin beautifully. "Oh god, yes," Sam hums. He'd been hoping his trickster would mark him up like this, leave him with something that he could look at and remember that there was a powerful, just creature out there that called him 'mine' and wanted the world to know it.

The trickster lifts his head, teeth scraping against Sam's skin as he does. "Not a god, beautiful. But you can call me one, if you want."

"I don't even care," Sam gasps. "Just keep doing that. Please."

"Since you asked so very nicely," the trickster purrs, and leans down to form another bruised up mark on Sam's chest. From there, he's insatiable, leaving a pattern of hickeys all across Sam's neck, collar, chest, shoulders- there's one on his stomach, too, and he's pretty sure even his earlobe hasn't escaped getting marked up. He's going to have the trickster's marks on his body the rest of the week at least, and that thought alone is driving him wild. With each new touch, he bucks up in frustration at the way the trickster isn't quite close enough to get any friction. His new lover must have sensed his lack of friction, because, while those wicked teeth are still teasing a spot just below Sam's lowest rib, he works open the front of Sam's jeans, jerks them down.

The trickster is the perfect balance between rough and caring- he shoves Sam's legs apart and settles greedily between them, starts leaving his marks across Sam's hips and thighs, but at Sam's pained whimper, gently slides his thumb over the bite inside his thigh, soothing it. The way he presses his forehead to Sam's chest after each series of bites, almost adoringly, is soft but possessive, and Sam uses it as an excuse to touch, stroking the soft hair and letting his hands trail down the trickster's spine as far as he can reach.

It's been a long time since Sam's bottomed, and he'd forgotten how good it could feel, especially with his trickster being the one taking care of him. He's powerless and pinned, but he hasn't been this relaxed, this lost in pleasure, in months. It's just rough enough to bruise his thighs, another set of markings that he'll see every morning and every night, and just slow enough to give him stars behind his eyes with every roll of his own hips, moving eagerly up in time with the trickster's thrusts. The trickster hasn't stopped praising him under his breath, but as they get closer, he growls, "You're mine, Sam, fucking _mine_ , you remember that?"

"Yes," Sam gasps out, and not because the trickster wants him to say it. Because it's exactly what he's been wanting to hear since that day in the warehouse when the trickster had first laid his claim. Now that claim is being fulfilled. "All yours." Apparently pleased, the trickster leans down, growling  _"Good. My Sam,_ " and sucks at the hunter's shoulder again, and Sam comes so hard he blacks out.

When Sam wakes, he's in his motel alone. His clothes are stacked neatly at the end of his bed, the torn flannel repaired, and his whole body feels warm and relaxed, as though every kink in his muscles has been worked out. The only evidence that anything had happened last night is the spattering of marks across his chest, and the subtle ache of his thighs.

There are some benefits to belonging to a trickster.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo child, that got exciting. But you know what, Sam had a fucking great time, so in the end who's the loser here. No one. aleatoryw.tumblr.com where I usually post much more sfw things than this...


End file.
